Il Suono di Cuore
by acantabloom
Summary: A collection of stories for the music AU "Il Suono di Cuore"--the sound of the heart. Where sublime performance replaces thrilling matches, and love grows even stronger. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
1. First Notes of Insanity

**A/N: **This is the first ficlet in a music AU I have created called "Il Suono di Cuore". The PoT characters are music students enrolled in one of two performing arts high schools, or in one of several local private schools with a strong music program.

I will continue to post all my writing for this AU in this "story"--be warned that they are set in the same universe, but I'm probably going to jump around between times and characters. I'll state at the beginning of each story which characters are in it and at what time it occurs.

**Title: **First Notes of Insanity

**Characters: **Yuuta, Saeki, Fuji (Syuusuke), and a few others

**Time: Year 2** (canon 3rd years are in their second year of high school)

Summary: Yuuta has two questions he hates more than anything: "Are you related to Fuji Yumiko and Fuji Syuusuke?" and "Then why don't you play the flute like them?" But ready or not, he has arrived for his first day at the Tokyo School for the Arts.

* * *

Fuji Yuuta swallowed hard as he stared up at the gleaming double doors marked with an ornate bronze plaque reading: TOKYO SCHOOL FOR THE ARTS (MUSIC DIVISION). He held his clarinet case tightly in one hand. A large, battered suitcase containing most of his earthly possessions wobbled beside him, apparently as nervous as he was.

He checked his watch again. Either Syuusuke or Yumiko had been supposed to meet him at the front door ten minutes ago. Really, he should just take his things and go inside. He was being a coward.

The truth was, he had serious doubts about attending TSA, or any performing arts high school. And he was probably crazy for agreeing to go to the school where his mother and sister worked and his older brother attended. He was probably going to hate it. He had no idea why he had gotten in—he wasn't some sort of prodigy, like his siblings were.

The doors swung open with a groan, and a completely unfamiliar boy stood there at the top of the steps, smiling down at him cheerfully. "You must be Yuuta," he said.

Yuuta could imagine what must be running through his head—how ordinary looking he was, not handsome, not fine-boned and delicate, nothing like a Fuji.

"Fuji-kun asked me to come and get you," the boy said. "He's busy right now, so he couldn't come himself. I'm Saeki by the way. Saeki Kojirou."

"Yeah," Yuuta mumbled. "Thanks. Nice to meet you, Saeki-san."

Saeki eyed his suitcase. "Need any help with that?"

"I'm fine," Yuuta said, tugging at its handle. It refused to budge. He kicked at it.

"Here," Saeki said, grabbing the other end.

"Thanks," Yuuta said again. With Saeki's help, he wrestled the suitcase up the steps and through the door.

"Sure," Saeki said. "Let's just get you registered and checked in, and then we can come back for this monster. Maybe with reinforcements—wouldn't be good if one of us broke a wrist, after all."

"OK."

Yuuta followed Saeki down the tiled hall. It seemed oddly quiet and empty.

"Where is everyone?" he asked.

"Oh, probably at the cafeteria. It's lunch time," Saeki said. "I'll take you there first. You must be hungry."

Yuuta nodded.

"So, what do you play?" he asked a minute later, in an attempt to be friendly.

"Flute," Saeki said with a grin. "I'm one of Yumiko-sensei's students. But it looks like you aren't following in the family tradition."

Yuuta flushed. It was one of his least favorite questions. Just because Syuusuke and Yumiko were both stellar flutists didn't mean that he had to play the same instrument as them!

"Eh, sorry," Saeki said, seeing his expression. "I'm sure you're a great clarinet player—you are a Fuji, after all."

Yuuta forced a smile. That was another of his least favorite things to hear, but Saeki was making an effort to be nice to him.

"Here's the cafeteria!" Saeki announced at last, showing Yuuta into an enormous room crowded with tables and tables of chattering teenagers. Most of them were wearing TSA's black uniform with a blue tie, but mixed in among them were students wearing various other uniforms. "Not all schools have started yet, so there are a lot of visitors today. Fuji-kun should be around somewhere. Oh, I wonder what that crowd is doing." He dragged Yuuta over to a corner of the cafeteria, where dozens of students were forming a circle around something.

Saeki gave an involuntary exclamation, and as soon as Yuuta realized why, he was seized by a powerful need to flee.

It was Syuusuke. The crowd was staring at Syuusuke, and a brown haired, bespectacled boy who was currently kneeling at his feet. Yuuta saw that he was wearing the uniform of another school—a white one.

"Oh," Saeki muttered. "That's just cruel."

"What are they doing?" Yuuta hissed, still prepared to make a hasty escape. "Who is that?"

"Tezuka Kunimitsu," Saeki whispered back.

The name sounded familiar somehow, but it took Yuuta a minute to place it.

"The cellist?" he demanded. "One of the Four Lords?" The "Four Lords" was the nickname for the principal string players of the Tokyo Youth Symphony (supposedly the best in the country)—Yukimura, the concertmaster. Atobe, assistant concertmaster. Sanada, principal viola. Tezuka, principal cello. All going into their second year of high school. All brilliant.

"Yes," Saeki said. "You didn't know? He's been after your brother for almost an entire year. Now be quiet, I want to know what's happening."

Syuusuke smiled that irritating smile of his, the one that drove Yuuta into a fury every time he saw it. It managed to be smug and self-satisfied, while preserving a note of sweetness and innocence (entirely fake).

"All right," he said, extending a hand to Tezuka, who stared up at him. "We can discuss this later."

The crowd let out a sigh of disappointment, and began to disperse. Saeki grabbed hold of a tall student with spiky black hair and thick glasses.

"Inui," he said. "What just happened?"

Inui gave a smile that showed entirely too many teeth.

"Tezuka came in and actually asked Fuji out, and Fuji said 'I'll go out with you if you kneel on the floor and bow to me'. I don't think he expected Tezuka to actually do it. Tezuka is terribly proud, after all."

"Yuuta!" Syuusuke trotted over to him wearing a beatific smile, and seized his hands. "Yuuta, I'm so glad you decided to come!"

Yuuta scowled and broke free.

"Just in time to see you make a spectacle of yourself, Aniki."

Syuusuke blinked innocently.

"Why, Yuuta, I have no idea what you are talking about. It isn't anything unusual."

Yuuta slapped a hand to his forehead. "Great," he said. "Talk to you later." He turned to Saeki. "Saeki-san, would you mind showing me where the dorms are? I'm in room 25."

"Sure," Saeki said, giving him an odd look.

"Wait," Inui said. "So you're Fuji and Yumiko-sensei's younger brother? And Fuji-sensei's son? I'm one of her piano students," he added.

"Yeah," Yuuta said, trying to indicate to Saeki with gestures of his head that they should leave.

"Hmm," Inui said, pushing his glasses up his nose and eying Yuuta's clarinet case. "But you don't play flute?"

"No!" Yuuta practically shouted. "Sorry, I have to go." He knew that he was being rude, but he didn't think his brain could stand being in this pit of insanity for a moment longer. Only fifteen minutes at his new school, and he was going to snap. Three years to go…

"Bye, Yuuta!" Syuusuke called with a cheery wave. "I'll let Yumiko know you're here right away. And Mother, of course."

Saeki gave him another strange look out of the corner of his eye as they headed for the dorms.

"You didn't know your brother was, um…" he began awkwardly.

"Popular?" Yuuta snapped. "Being pursued by one of the Four Lords? No, nobody exactly tells me these things."

"Well," Saeki said. "He's the best high school flutist in Tokyo, at least…and good looking…There aren't too many people who would turn him down. Although he isn't the one who usually does the asking. He's gone out with loads of people, but it never lasts for more than a few days. We dated, actually. One day, five hours, and thirty-three minutes."

"Oh," Yuuta said faintly, feeling a headache coming on.

"But who knows what might happen with Tezuka," Saeki said, shrugging his shoulders. "He's not the type to do this sort of thing casually."

"I'd rather not think about it," Yuuta said with a weak (and insincere) smile.

They had reached a long hallway lined with numbered doors.

"Here are the freshman rooms," Saeki said. "25 is all the way at the end. Do you want me to help bring your suitcase up here?"

"Thank you for all your help," Yuuta said, meaning it this time. "I'll get it myself. You've done a lot already."

"Ok!" Saeki said. "See you at the opening ceremony. It's in about half an hour, I think."

Yuuta pushed open the door to his new room.

It was pretty much what he had expected of a dorm room—tile floor, white walls, a closet, two desks, a bunk bed, and a single bed. On the bottom of the bunk bed sat a very tall boy with silver hair and large brown eyes. He gave Yuuta a polite smile, and stood up.

"Hello," he said, bowing. "I'm Ohtori Choutarou. Are you rooming in here?"

"Yes," Yuuta said. "I'm Yuuta. Fuji Yuuta, I mean. Nice to…" he trailed off, as Ohtori's face assumed a familiar look of surprise.

"Fuji?" he asked. "Are you related to Fuji Yumiko-sensei? She's going to be my teacher here!"

Yuuta nodded wearily. Another flute player. Why did there have to be so many?

"She's my older sister. Fuji Syuusuke is my older brother. My mother teaches piano."

"Wow," Ohtori said. "That's incredible. Your whole family is here. I guess you won't be homesick at all. So, do you play flute as well?"

Yuuta pointed to his clarinet case.

"Oh," Ohtori said. "The clarinet is a very nice instrument too. Actually, I've never really focused on flute before—piano was my main instrument. But when I got offered a scholarship to come here and study with your sister, I decided I couldn't turn down such an opportunity."

"So," Yuuta said, to change the subject. "Do we have another roommate, or is that an extra bed."

Ohtori laughed nervously. "Yes, we do, but he's a little frightening."

"Frightening?" Yuuta asked. "How?"

Just then, the door swung open, and another boy walked in. His hair was covered by a green bandanna, and he wore a threatening scowl.

"Hello, Kaidoh-kun," Ohtori said. "This is our other roommate, Fuji-kun."

"You can just call me Yuuta," Yuuta interrupted.

Kaidoh gave him a glare, _hissed_—there was no other word for it—and retreated to the single bed in the corner.

"All right," Yuuta said, putting his clarinet case on top of the upper bunk. "I guess I'm sleeping here." Kaidoh was indeed somewhat frightening, but he was the first person who hadn't made any comments about Yuuta's family, which was a relief. Even if he hadn't talked, period.

There was a knock on the door.

"Yuuta!" Syuusuke's voice called. "Yuuta, are you in there? Mother and Yumiko want to see you!"

"Sorry," Yuuta yelled back, without opening the door. "I have freshman orientation, and the opening ceremony. I'll see them some other time. Good-bye!"

It was going to be a very interesting year. Well, damn it, Yuuta was going to prove that he was a musician (a _clarinetist_) in his own right, and not just some member of the Fuji family. No way was he going to spend he next three years in Syuusuke's shadow! He hadn't come here because of his family, after all. He had come in order to follow his own dreams. Or at least, he decided, to figure out what they were.


	2. The Beginning of an Era

**Title: **The Beginning of an Era

**Characters: **Atobe, Fuji, Tezuka, Yukimura

**Time: Year 1 **(canon 3rd years are entering their first year of high school)

**Summary: **Atobe has lived most of his life in England, but he has arrived in Japan to start high school--just not the school he wanted to attend. It's not the moment he would have chosen to reunite with an old friend.

* * *

_"Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!"_

Atobe rolled over and groaned.

"_Tu pure, o Principessa, nella tua fredda stanza…"_

Still blinded by sleep, he ran his hand along his bedside table until he found his cellphone. He needed to change the ring tone, it was just too ironic.

"Keigo?" It was a young man's voice.

"Who is it?" he mumbled into the phone, only realizing afterwards that he had spoken in English.

"Have you forgotten me, then?" the voice teased, also speaking English, although with an accent.

"Ah," Atobe said. "Hello, Syuusuke. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long," Fuji Syuusuke said. "I haven't seen you in two years. You should have called once you got to Japan."

"I meant to," Atobe said. "My schedule has been quite busy, you know."

"When do you start at the Tokyo Performance Academy?"

Atobe's stomach clenched. He opened his mouth to speak, but wasn't sure what to say.

"Oh," Fuji said, after a long silence. "Are you not enrolled there, after all? I thought it was settled."

"I changed my mind," Atobe said, as flippantly as he could. "I took a tour, and decided it wasn't for me."

"All right," Fuji said. "You should have come to TSA, then. It's better, anyway."

"Go to school with you and your insane family?" Atobe said. "No thank you."

Fuji laughed, not sounding at all offended. "I'm starting classes in three days. Do you want to meet up sometime tomorrow?"

"Of course," Atobe said.

"You know where my school is? There's a café right across the street that's quite decent. Let's meet there."

"All right," Atobe said.

He put down the phone.

"I wish you would understand, Syuusuke," he said to the empty room. "I'm never going to belong to your world."

Fuji's world meant a family of musicians, a life dedicated to one's art. Fuji's world meant a performing arts high school, conservatory, and then a career that might bring either fame or crushing poverty.

That was not the world of the heir to the (recent) Atobe fortune. It wasn't secure. It wasn't _respectable._ And going to the Tokyo Performance Academy, Atobe's father had decided, would not be respectable.

Atobe got the sense that his father was rather baffled. How could he have known that the years of costly music lessons and expensive instruments would turn his son not into a gentleman, but into a musician?

He had applied to the Tokyo Performance Academy instead of the Tokyo School for the Arts because it offered a full scholarship to a certain number of talented violin students a year. He had applied behind his father's back.

When he had been accepted, he had realized that at sixteen, he didn't have the courage to turn his back on his father, or his life of luxury. Maybe someday. But until then, he knew the difference between reality and impossible dreams.

Besides, he didn't want to be a violinist. Violin had been a sort of compromise—it wasn't as respectable as piano, but neither did it reek of "starving artist".

So, he wasn't going to have the life he had dreamed of. Hyoutei had a decent music program. That would have to be enough for him. He closed his eyes, and leaned back in bed.

"_Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!"_

"Hello?"

"Do you mind if I bring a friend along tomorrow?" Fuji asked. "He goes to my school. My new roommate, actually."

"That's fine," Atobe said. "Good night!"

"You weren't sleeping, were you Keigo?"

"Of course not," Atobe lied. "It's only nine o' clock."

What was Fuji planning? If he was still as much of a meddler as he had been in elementary school, he was probably trying to set Atobe up with this violinist friend of his. Atobe sighed.

Well, two could play that game. Just because he had only been in Japan for a week didn't mean that he was entirely without resources.

* * *

. It was not yet noon, and the café was mostly empty. Atobe was already on his second cup of coffee. Fuji should be here soon.

"Atobe."

"Good morning, Tezuka-san," Atobe said, glancing up to see that his guest had arrived. He felt all too aware that his Japanese, while fluent, had a noticeable British accent. "I'm glad you could make it." He gestured to one of the free seats at the table

He and Tezuka had met the week before, at a tour of the Tokyo Performance Academy. For some reason, Atobe had immediately taken a liking to the stoic cellist. Everything about him belied a seriousness that Atobe knew he himself lacked.

Tezuka nodded politely. "It's good to see you again. I'm sorry you won't be attending TPA this year."

Atobe looked away. "It's an excellent school," he said, keeping his voice light. "But I decided that Hyoutei was a better match for me."

"You're welcome." Tezuka sat down beside him. "You said that you are meeting a friend here?"

"Yes," Atobe said, glad to change the subject. "We went to school together in London. His family lived there for several years while the older sister studied at the Royal Academy of Music. Fuji Yumiko, perhaps you've heard of her?"

"Of course," Tezuka said. "She teaches at the Tokyo School for the Arts. He attends there?"

Atobe nodded. "He's going to be a first-year, like us. Ah, here he is." He rose from his seat to greet Fuji.

Middle school hadn't changed Fuji much, at least where appearance was concerned. He was still small and slender, although he had grown a few inches, and the wide, peaceful smile was still the same. His bright blue eyes, though, seemed slightly colder. Or perhaps it was only Atobe's imagination. They were no longer children, after all.

The boy beside him was slightly taller, with shoulder-length blue hair and an equally calm expression. He was also remarkably handsome, perhaps even more so than Fuji. Atobe immediately noticed the red mark on the side of his neck. A violinist, then, and one who practiced a great deal.

"Hello, Keigo!" Fuji said in English. "Allow me to introduce Yukimura Seiichi, concertmaster of the Tokyo Youth Symphony and my new roommate."

Atobe nodded, impressed. The Tokyo Youth Symphony didn't even accept students younger than high school age—for Yukimura to be the concertmaster as a ninth grader was a remarkable achievement.

"Pleased to meet you, Yukimura-san," he said in Japanese, shooting Fuji a dirty look. He turned to Tezuka. "This is Fuji Syuusuke, the friend I was telling you about. Syuusuke, this is Tezuka Kunimitsu."

"It's good to meet you at last," Fuji said to Tezuka. "I've heard a great deal about you from Yukimura. You study with Ryuuzaki-sensei?"

"Yes," Tezuka said.

Yukimura smiled at Atobe. "The world of music is so small, isn't it? Tezuka and I are both in the Tokyo Youth Symphony. Perhaps you will join us there this year? There are usually several Hyoutei students who participate, and auditions aren't until next week. It's quite competitive, but from what Fuji says, I'm sure you could get in."

"I would like to audition," Atobe said, meaning it. Playing in a youth orchestra which met perhaps once a week wouldn't be the same as going to TPA, but an opportunity to work with the best young musicians in Tokyo was not to be scorned. In his old orchestra, back in London, he had been the concertmaster, of course. If he started practicing immediately, he might even be able to replace Yukimura as concertmaster.

"You know," Yukimura said, "We almost have a string quartet right here. We just need a violist. Tezuka, do you by any chance—?"

Tezuka heard his name, looked over at them. "I'm sorry Yukimura, what did you say?" Atobe hid a smile. The cellist was obviously having difficulty tearing his attention away from Fuji.

"Do you know any good violists?" Yukimura asked again. "If Atobe here joins us, we could start a string quartet."

"There's another first-year at TPA," Tezuka said, still clearly distracted. "Sanada…I forget his first name, but he's supposed to be very good."

"Tell me, Keigo," Fuji said, his eyes flashing. "What do you think of Haydn?"

"Symphonies, or chamber music, and why?" Atobe asked, wishing Fuji wouldn't drag him into arguments.

"Symphonies," Fuji said. "Tezuka doesn't like them."

Tezuka opened his mouth. "That isn't what I said," he protested. "I only suggested that his historical role as the creator of the modern symphony has perhaps been overrated."

Atobe raised an eyebrow.

"His early work is typical of its style, if charming," he said.

"But you can't deny the quality of his later symphonies," Fuji cut in.

"The London symphonies are overrated," Tezuka said, speaking with more heat now. "Especially "The Clock"."

"You haven't lived there," Fuji snapped. "So you don't understand!"

Atobe winced. Perhaps it wasn't love after all.

But he trusted his intuition. There was something in the way Tezuka stared at Fuji. Fascination, if not infatuation. Even Atobe had to admit that Fuji was a charmer. Beguiling. He drew people to him, he always had. It would be interesting to see if anything came of it.

Because Tezuka _was _besotted, even if he didn't know it yet.

* * *

Atobe surveyed his new room in Hyoutei's dorms. It was a single, of course—well, it had been originally built as a double, but he was its only occupant. The cold tile floor had been covered by a pale green Persian carpet, and an extra set of drawers had been brought in to hold his clothing. The bed was unfortunately only twin-size, but had been fitted with silk sheets. Only the walls were bare. He needed a few paintings, or posters, but he hadn't yet decided what to buy.

Hyoutei would suit him well enough, he decided. He had met a few students who participated in the music program—they were talented, but not as serious as the ones he had encountered at TPA. Oh well. Neither was he. If he had gone to TPA or TSA, he would have been just another violinist, painfully aware that he would never pursue music as a career.

Here, he would have the chance to be a leader.

"_Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!"_

"So, Keigo…" Fuji said.

"I asked you to stop calling me that," Atobe drawled into the phone.

"I've known you since we were eight, I'll call you whatever I please. Anyway, has Yukimura sent you the audition information for the Tokyo Youth Symphony."

"He has. Are you auditioning as well?"

"Of course. Yumiko will kill me if I don't make principal flute. So…what do you think of Yukimura?"

"I like him," Atobe said, refusing to give in to Fuji's prodding. "Don't you?"

Fuji made a noise of exasperation. "But do you _like _him?"

Atobe rolled his eyes. "Stop the matchmaking, you aren't very good at it. You should know that nothing could ever work out between me and him."

Fuji was all innocence. "Why not? Isn't he handsome enough for you? Or do you just not want to date someone who plays better than you?"

"Same-instrument couples are doomed to failure," Atobe snapped. "You know that. Would you date a flute player?"

"Oh!" Fuji said. "I _am_ dating a flutist, as of this morning. His name is Saeki, he's one of my sister's students."

"All right," Atobe said, giving up. "Good luck to him, then."

And good luck to Tezuka. He was going to need it.

* * *

A/N: Atobe's ringtone is the aria "Nessun Dorma" from Puccini's opera _Turandot_, which is one of the most famous tenor arias in the repertoire. The first two words mean "No one shall sleep"—hence Atobe's comment on the irony of having it wake him up (twice).


	3. Truth and Lies

A bit more angst and less music in this one...I wasn't expecting to write this scene, but it just came to me, and I had no choice!

**Title: **Truth and Lies

**Time: **Year 1 (shortly after the events of the previous story)

**Characters:** Yukimura, Fuji, Yuuta

* * *

Yukimura looked up from his desk to glance over at his roommate, who was feigning interest in a textbook.

Fuji sometimes read novels or manga, but he never studied. And so, he was either so completely bored that he was pretending to be a normal high school student, or he was trying to catch Yukimura's attention for purposes of his own. Yukimura didn't know which of those alternatives was the more dangerous.

"Fuji," Yukimura said. "That's an English textbook."

Fuji raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm studying. Is that a problem?"

Yukimura glared at him. "You lived in England for four years. You're fluent."

Fuji smiled, seemingly unabashed.

"What do you want?" Yukimura said, attempting to cut straight to the point, and knowing it probably wouldn't work. Fuji was a good roommate, and a good friend, but he was also completely exasperating at times—well, most of the time.

"What do you think of Atobe?" Fuji said.

Yukimura blinked. "Atobe?"

"You know, the one I introduced you to last weekend."

"I know who Atobe is. He's your friend, why are you asking me what I think of him?"

Now, it was Fuji's turn to stare, opening his brilliant blue eyes wide.

"Yukimura," he said. "Are you telling me you didn't realize _why_ I introduced him to you?"

"Well," Yukimura said, drawing out the word. "If he's a good violinist, I can start a string quartet with him and Tezuka."

Fuji looked at him, and then began to laugh. He laughed until he was collapsed backwards against his desk, and tears ran down his cheeks.

Yukimura waited.

"Oh my," Fuji said, wiping his eyes. "Now there's something I never would have anticipated. A face like yours, and the best violinist under eighteen in Tokyo, and you're apparently romantically impaired."

"I am not!" Yukimura protested. "Oh…" So Fuji had introduced him to Atobe in hopes of setting the two of them up. "Well, if you thought that I would in a million years date Atobe Keigo, you're romantically impaired too."

"I knew it was a long shot," Fuji said, his calm restored. "I just talked to him on the phone this evening, and he said that 'same-instrument couples are doomed to failure', by which he means that he would never date someone who was prettier than him _and _a better violinist."

"He has a point," Yukimura said. "If you play the same instrument as your boyfriend, someone is going to be better. Someone is going to be jealous. A relationship can't outlast that sort of tension. Speaking of which, why did you agree to go out with what's-his-name this morning?"

"Saeki?" Fuji said. "Because he asked."

Yukimura rolled his eyes. "Be serious."

Fuji smiled, and walked across the room to perch himself on the edge of Yukimura's bed. "I am serious."

"You're going to break up with him tomorrow, aren't you?" Yukimura said.

"I never said that," Fuji murmured, moving so close that his lips brushed Yukimura's ear.

Yukimura pushed his own chair backwards away from the desk, putting a healthy distance between himself and his roommate. "You should, since he doesn't mean a thing to you."

"He's nice," Fuji said. "I like him."

"If you feel that way, then you shouldn't play with his feelings."

Fuji grinned. "Maybe you should consider being a relationship counselor, if your career as a violinist doesn't work out." He flung himself off the desk so that he landed in Yukimura's lap, sending both of them flying.

Yukimura's head spun for a moment, and when he realized what had happened, he also realized that Fuji had him pinned on the floor, with their faces about two inches apart.

"Now you're just trying to distract me," he growled.

"Is it working?"

"Not really. Go find your boyfriend."

"You just told me to leave Saeki alone, so I assumed you were volunteering as a replacement." Fuji ran a delicate finger along Yukimura's cheek.

Yukimura grabbed his wrists and pushed him away.

"Oh, stop it. You know it doesn't work that way."

Fuji leaned forward again, tilting his head, parting his lips every so slightly.

"What do you _want?" _Yukimura demanded in frustration.

Fuji's eyes clouded, his expression turned sullen.

"It's easy for you," he said. "All _you _want is to be the best. And you're almost there already, so it's easy."

Yukimura rolled to a sitting position and neatly slid away from Fuji's attempt to move closer.

"And," Fuji added, "If I was Yumiko, you'd be naked already."

Yukimura had only met Fuji's sister a few times, but he knew that it was true. Yumiko's presence was warm. She had a way of making everyone she looked at feel wanted, needed, desired.

Fuji was cold. He and Yumiko looked a great deal alike, but it was obvious to Yukimura, even when Fuji had him pinned to the floor, that he didn't want to be touched. He made people feel small and insignificant. No wonder they pursued him.

Yukimura draped an arm over Fuji's shoulders.

"If you're bored enough to be spending a Friday evening seducing your roommate, you should find something to do. Try practicing sometime. Or, if you're in such a bad mood, think of something else we can do."

"Let's sneak out," Fuji said. "Come on, I'll take you somewhere."

Yukimura shrugged. "It's up to you to make sure we don't get caught."

Fuji laughed. "We won't get caught."

* * *

The place Fuji brought him was a simple, one-story house with a neat front yard and a single car in the garage. Very ordinary. There was a light on somewhere in the back, but most of the house was dark.

"Why here?" Yukimura asked. "Did you bring me here to stalk someone?"

"Sort of," Fuji said. "This is my family's house."

"But you live at TSA," Yukimura said. "I thought you had lived there with your family since you moved back to Japan."

"Yes," Fuji said. "Since Mother and Yumiko both work there, I do. I went to that middle school down the street. But my father lives here. Haven't seen him for a while."

"Aren't your parents divorced?" Yukimura asked, hoping he didn't sound too insensitive.

Fuji chuckled. "No," he said. "Nobody knows why not. They're not suited for each other at all. They met in college—he was a business student, she was a pretty pianist at the nearby conservatory. And then, they had brilliant babies and she became the world's most frightening parent and abandoned him to manage her daughter's education. Because she was just good, and Yumiko was a genius."

He led Yukimura around to the back of the house, and pointed into the room where the light was coming from.

A boy sat in a bedroom lit only by the lamp at his desk, studying. Yukimura couldn't see well enough to make out his features, but there didn't seem to be a strong resemblance to Fuji. He looked ordinary.

"That's my brother," Fuji said. "His name is Yuuta. He's a year younger than us."

"I didn't know you had a brother," Yukimura said.

"He didn't come to England with us," Fuji said. "You see, Yumiko is the prodigy. Her education, her career is the priority." Fuji spoke so matter of factly, as if he was analyzing someone else's family, instead of his own. "Yuuta isn't gifted. He plays clarinet, but not all that well, at least not last time I heard him. I don't know if he likes music that much. So Mother doesn't pay attention to him—bad enough she had to go through the pregnancy, she's not about to waste time on his life."

"And where does that leave you?"

Fuji's eyes flashed. "What do you think?"

_I don't think you know, _Yukimura almost snapped back at him, but he held his tongue. Fuji was his friend and roommate, but his personal life wasn't Yukimura's business or Yukimura's problem. And whatever was bothering Fuji, there was nothing Yukimura could say to make it better.

"You don't have anything to say?" Fuji asked.

Yukimura smiled and batted his eyelashes. "You weren't having any success seducing me, so now you're trying to woo me with personal information. Give up."

"Is it so wrong to want to visit my brother? Besides, you never talk about your family, either."

"They're boring," Yukimura retorted. "There's nothing to say. Let's go back to school. We're leaving on the Tokyo Youth Symphony trip tomorrow—are you packed?"

"Not yet," Fuji said. "So?"

"Genius might do a lot of things for you, but it won't help you fold your clothes any faster," Yukimura said. "Let's go, it's getting late."

There were very few completely honest people in the world. Everyone had their secrets, and the things they were afraid to reveal even to themselves. Yukimura had just been shown a little more of Fuji tonight, and he wasn't sure that it had been something he wanted to see. They had only known each other for a few weeks, after all. And Fuji could be frightening, especially in the moments when he seemed far, far older than sixteen.

But Yukimura knew now that if there was not honesty between them, there was trust. Enough trust that they didn't have to worry about the things that remained unspoken.


End file.
